


Odds & Ends

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29551560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: Collection of excerpts and unfinished stories that won't become full fics, but I still want to share.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. the rules of apocalyptic intrigue

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. These are unedited and often end abruptly, but I'm sharing them in all their unfinished glory. I'll include a little background information on them at the start of each chapter for context though.
> 
> WORKING TITLE: dragon age seblaine au  
> SUMMARY: Set in the universe of the Dragon Age Inquisition video game, of the kind of AU I like, where the main plot happens with the characters from the original series while our transplanted characters handle side business. Blaine is a minor prince and Sebastian would be BFFs with Dorian, naturally.

The Conclave to resolve the mage rebellion blew sky high, killing the Andrastian Divine and casting even deeper suspicion on mages; strange green tears started to burn the sky open, indicating that the Fade itself was coming for them; civil war was brewing in Orlais, threatening death in the thousands if things got out of hand.

None of these things were top of Sebastian’s list of worries.

\--

“And suddenly, this event isn’t quite so boring anymore.”

Sebastian watched the handsome man start, turning away from observing a heated exchange that was happening a level below. It seemed that idiot Marquis Denoins had confronted a strange woman -- Rivani, maybe -- with a glowing green hand, the whole situation being mediated by the Madame de Fer. Just another day at the Orlesian court, and Sebastian was much more intrigued by the wide smile his greeting earned him.

“It’s amazing to see a mage just … being themselves.” Pretty honey eyes turned back down to the scene below, watching as the Madame froze the Marquis in place.

“Not what I was talking about.” Sebastian stepped closer, leaning against the railing. Below, green hand dismissed Vivienne’s offer to kill the Marquis (“If I killed every idiot in the world, I’d be alone,”) and the two left to talk together, the Marquis still glittering icily under the lights. “I was referring to your delightful presence.”

“Oh.” The smile turned somewhat bashful. “I don’t believe we’ve even had the pleasure of introduction?”

“I would definitely remember that.” Sebastian offered a hand, which was accepted, and they shared a solid shake. Very nice fingers, there. He was even more intrigued. “Sebastian Smythe.”

“Blaine Anderson.” 

“Well, Blaine of …” Sebastian took in the fit of his clothes, the lack of mask. “Ferelden?”

“By way of there, yes.” Blaine hesitated. “I’m originally from Rivain.”

That explained the hint of an accent, one which was an unusual sound in Orlais. “Then I give my thanks to whatever made you travel so far and arrive here and now.”

“I’m not the only one who’s travelled,” Blaine observed, body tilting more toward Sebastian to give him a once over. “That’s a Tevinter design on your belt and shoes, and not one you often see outside of their borders.”

Sebastian grinned. He did like them smart.

“I’m half Tevinter.” Sebastian waved a hand. “It’s not very exciting. Come on, dance with me, we can talk all about going new places.” He tried for his most fetching look, and it seemed that Blaine was not immune, ducking his head and nodding his agreement.

“One dance.” 

“The best you ever had,” Sebastian promised, and took Blaine by the hand, drawing him away from the balcony and out to the main dance floor. 

The music was slow and Sebastian drew himself close, sliding a hand along Blaine’s back and watching the enticing way Blaine’s eyes flickered over his face, dipping below the half-mask Sebastian wore, tracing the golden line of it, then further down to glide over Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian hummed, pulling Blaine closer still and feeling the heat of him as they spun neatly through the crowd of dancers, the music and bright flashes of fabrics, masks, laughing guests and whispered conversations of secrets only a backdrop to the feeling of Blaine sliding a hand up along his arm, fingers sure and questioning. Sebastian kept his expression even, resisting a cocked eyebrow as the song changed but Blaine stayed in his arms, watching him still with such a curious expression.

“You seem deep in thought.”

“I --” Blaine laughed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. I just --”

“Blaine!” 

Sebastian turned, sure he could feel sparks in his eyes as some tall, broad, floppy haired Fereldan ran up like one of their damnable overeager dogs to pant at Blaine’s ankles. If this was Blaine’s chaperone, Sebastian was giving up -- or well, he would, if he knew how.

“Sam? What is it?”

“Express courier, waiting for you -- they need a reply right now.”

“Alright.” Blaine flashed a regretful look at Sebastian as he stepped out of his arms. “I have to go. Thank you for the dance, your lordship.”

A polite half-bow, and then Blaine took off, Sam chattering rapidly at him as he placed a big, protective hand on Blaine’s back to guide him out. Sebastian watched, eyes narrowed, then with a regretful sigh turned to the edges of the dance floor for a new partner.

After that dance, there was no way he was sleeping alone tonight.

\--

Sebastian loved Orlais.

That wouldn’t be a popular sentiment back in Tevinter, to be sure. The relations between Orlais and Tevinter -- once satirized by his best friend as two feral cats trying to live in the same alley way -- was a balancing act on the edge of a knife, and to be caught in the middle of that by both birth and choice was no easy feat. Only the teachings of the Orlesian Game and the Tevinter lessons of blood or death had honed Sebastian in turn, giving him the skills to manipulate his way out of any situation, any accusation of treason or double-dealing, of playing favourites, of any other whispered word that could end with him beheaded or bled out on an altar somewhere.

(Magisters had such a flair for drama.)

The truth was, the two were far more alike than either would care to admit, and in one he might be more likely to find lamb and in the other buttered snails, but cultural differences were just a veneer to the sort of pulsing, ugly, marvelous beast of power and prestige that defined all their lives.

That was to say, no matter which country he was in, Sebastian was at home.

Admittedly, however, his reasons for being in Orlais this time were less pure than simply playing backstabbing games and sleeping with sharp, pretty nobles who would never admit they’d just let a Tevinter put his hands on them -- he’d needed a good reason to visit, with his mother being in such a mood lately.

No, what had drawn him here was concern for friends, concern that worsened with every letter that seemed to miss its intended target, or come back with formless, vague writings.

“This would be so much simpler if you’d just ... “ Sebastian trailed off, looking over the letter with a disgusted frown. He was just short of hiring a few mercenaries and heading down to Ferelden himself, however much he didn’t want to step foot in that dog infested mudhole.

“Is something bothering you, my dear?”

Sebastian looked up. The Madame de Fer stood in the doorway of his study, wearing a truly spectacular floor-length, navel-dipped, clinging grey robe set and golden mask with twisting horns. She had to be one of the most beautiful women in all of Orlais, and few would ever fully realize.

“You’re going to miss the party, Vivienne.”

He hid the letter casually under a few spell tomes, straightening to view the enchantress.

“I am going to be missing many.” She said it in a way that suggested the parties would be the ones missing _her_ , which was no doubt correct. Sebastian then registered her words, and his confused expression prompted her further. “I am going to be moving to Skyhold. I thought you might be interested in hosting my going away party.”

“Skyhold? Is that some kind of special Circle for mages too good to walk on the earth?”

“It’s where the Inquisition is set up.” Vivienne entered the room with careful elegance, trailing her fingers over his books. “I have agreed to help them.”

“Why?” 

Sebastian had heard of this Inquisition, the army of the Chantry resurrected again, and he couldn’t imagine a group he’d be less interested in joining -- but then again, he’d never been much of a joiner. Vivienne, on the other hand, was extremely loyal to the Circle and was probably salivating at the idea of getting the Chantry back on its military feet after the incident at the Conclave.

“I found the Herald to be a compelling speaker.” Vivienne considered him. “You _are_ welcome to join me, if you wish.”

“Not on my life.” Sebastian grinned, and Vivienne graced him with a tiny chin tilt that might be a smile. “But I’ll plan your party, certainly. Can’t have these sheep forgetting their shepherd, can we?”

“They would never dare to.”

“Of course, of course.” Sebastian met Vivienne in the middle of the room, and started to guide her out. “Now, let’s discuss this party …”

\--

Sebastian looked for Blaine at Vivienne’s going away party, but for the third time since that night at Vivienne’s party, his search turned up empty.

He really did have too much already on his plate to be worrying about handsome strangers as well.

So, he tried (emphasis on _tried_ ) to let it go.

\--

_Dear Sebastian,_

_All’s well. Don’t worry._

_Your friend,_

_Felix Alexius_

\--

“I’m simply saying,” Marquis Dedoins whine could cut through solid rock. Clearly he had regained his confidence after Vivienne left court, because he was attempting to place himself very purposefully in Sebastian’s sphere. “We _all know_ what a matter of ruling is …”

“Do we?” Sebastian regarded him with deep boredom. He hoped it came across. “I didn’t even know you could _spell_ ruling.”

The Marquis drew himself up. He was still about a handspan shorter than Sebastian. “There is no need to act like you know better than me, _Tevinter_. You only embarrass yourself.”

“Would it really matter if it was an act, since I have the same title and same right to discuss _ruling_ as you, _Orlesian_?”

“Times like these, you pray to Andraste for divine intervention …” the Marquis looked around with mock concentration. “Isn’t that Ser Barris? Perhaps he can settle our dispute.”

“Only if you’re too cowardly to settle this yourself.” Sebastian waited -- maybe the Marquis really was that stupid -- but the man, sadly, backed down, looking away and snorting. “I thought so.”

“Some people think overconfidence is an unattractive trait,” the Marquis said. “I can’t ever imagine what they mean. Surely they can’t have met _you_.”

“Mm.” Sebastian was rapidly losing any interest he’d had now that the Marquis had been neutered. He looked around for a new target, considering and dismissing several boring nobles in turn. “And I’d think you would know all about being unattractive.”

“I _have_ talked to you often,” the Marquis shot back, and Sebastian could have sworn he heard the faint metallic drag of a blade being drawn from its sheath as he spun around and found Blaine standing there, smiling pacifyingly as he placed a hand on the Marquis’ arm, the hand of which was gripping the bejeweled handle of his dagger.

“Marquis Dedoins. A pleasure.” Blaine’s hand moved into a shake, and the Marquis accepted with a faint nose wrinkle of disgust. It was not Orlesian fashion to shake hands, and Sebastian wasn’t sure if Blaine had spent too long in Ferelden or if he was deliberately making the Marquis make that face.

“And you are ….?”

“Blaine Anderson.” Sebastian took him in the admiring look of a man who hadn’t seen a work of art in too long. “Of Ferelden.”

“Ah. A Fereldan.” The Marquis let go of Blaine’s hand quickly. Ungrateful, that. “You must excuse me. I must check in on the progress of a bet.”

He left, finally, the ribbon ties of his mask lightly slapping Blaine across the face as he turned and stalked off. Blaine blinked, eyebrows furrowing then raising in a silent dance as he considered the departing Marquis.

“Take no offense,” Blaine said, “But you are the nicest Orlesian I’ve met since I’ve been here.”

“And to think, Tevinters aren’t known for their open natures either.” Sebastian stepped closer, letting their elbows kiss, Blaine looking up at him with a twinkling smile. “I must be something special, if not half as special as you.”

“You barely know me,” Blaine protested, but for his bashful denial his smile never wavered. “We didn’t get a chance to talk last week.”

“Yes, I seem to remember you being whisked away by a handsome Fereldan boy. Can’t say I blame you …”

“Sam?” Blaine shook his head rapidly. “Oh, he’s not -- it was a courier, you understand.”

“Business never ends.” Sebastian considered him. “So he’s your …?”

“Head of my guard,” Blaine nodded to a private corner of the room, and when Sebastian looked, he found Sam there, deep in conversation with a Comtess who would chew him up and swallow him whole, as fresh as he looked. “We’ve been friends even longer than that, though.”

“You travel with a guard?”

“I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Surely you don’t expect to be attacked at a party. These people tend to save the assassinations for late night break ins.”

“You can never be too careful in a foreign country,” Blaine demurred. “And if I were them, well, I’d think if everyone else saves the assassinations for late night break-ins then the best time to get at someone would be any time but that.”

“Now that’s thinking like an Orlesian.” Sebastian started to walk them and Blaine kept pace, their slow route around the room taking them towards the outdoor terrace. “Tell me, did you come here to play the Game?”

“The Game?”

“Oh no, cute as you may be, there is no way a guest in the Orlesian court doesn’t know about the Grand Game. I see right through you.”

“Fine.” Blaine laughed. “You caught me. I know of it, but isn’t it only for Orlesians? I wouldn’t have much to gain from it.”

“Nothing to gain from gaining noble favour and influence and power? It doesn’t matter the country -- that always pays off in the end.”

“Not if it gets me labelled a traitor to my home countries.” Blaine shook his head. “So do you play the Game?”

“Wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t,” Sebastian said cheerfully. Blaine gave him a look as he, with an automatic grace that could only be from a noble upbringing, bowed Sebastian through the door first. “I don’t have much cause for assassinating people, however. You never know when someone will be more useful to you alive instead of dead.”

“Interesting philosophy.” They found their way to a bench along the edge of the terrace and sat, looking over the low stone railing out onto the perfectly manicured lawn of the manor house. An elf in a drab grey outfit could just be seen, cleaning up a few bottles of wine that seemed to have been tossed over the edge in target practice at the elegant old tree that twisted up from its white gravel bed. “In Ferelden, it’s much simpler. You don’t like someone, you duel. You like someone, you’re loyal until the end.”

“Didn’t they have a military general betray their king, and one of the noble houses get slaughtered by another, just a decade ago?”

“Exceptions that prove the rule.” Blaine crossed his arms. “I know they’re not popular other here, but Fereldans have always been kind to me.”

“Then I won’t joke about mud or dogs at all,” Sebastian promised. Blaine laughed, arms falling back to his side. “But tell me, if you love the place so much, and you don’t want to play the Game, why _are_ you here?”

Sebastian didn’t ask questions expecting honesty, and his curiosity flourished on lies -- but he half hoped Blaine would surprise him, because an answer to explain _why_ he had been unable to track down any official explanation for Blaine’s visit this past week would be a welcome gift. 

“Honestly? I have been asked to expand my knowledge of different court practises by my aunt. She thinks I’ve been too cloistered in Ferelden. As she put it, barbarians do it too simply.”

“So you’re here to cut your teeth.” Sebastian stretched out his legs. Blaine’s gaze followed the movement. “Well, if you want to do that, you should try out the Game. Just a little can’t hurt, can it?”

“I suppose not.” Blaine looked around. “So … you just … do it? I know anything goes, but what are the rules? Expectations?”

“Not so much those as … well.” Sebastian turned on the bench and Blaine followed, looking out over the party now. “There _are_ unspoken expectations. Social norms, like say, don’t show up with a bare face and never arrive too early or too late -- fashionably late is always the best timing. To do those are the basic rules. No one will take you seriously if you don’t blend in.”

“Sensible.” Blaine touched his cheek. “Do I need a mask? I thought -- well, they seem to have meanings. Yours have had that same scrollwork both times I’ve seen you, and nobody else I’ve seen has it.”

“Each family has its own design.” Sebastian reached out, brushing a knuckle across Blaine’s cheekbone. Blaine turned with it, regarding him with wide eyes. “But let’s not cover up that face. No one would expect it of a newcomer Fereldan, anyways.”

“Alright …” Blaine continued to stare at him until Sebastian dropped his hand with a smirk, letting it draw down Blaine’s arm as he pulled away. “Um, once you fit in, what then?”

“Have a good time?” Sebastian laughed to himself, then explained, “Then you decide what you want and you go for it, by any means necessary.”

“But I don’t want anything?”

“Now that’s a shame.” Sebastian leaned into Blaine, nudging him. “Are you _sure_?”

“I …” Blaine shook his head.

+

“Well, look there.” Sebastian nodded discreetly at a Baroness and a Lady who were talking privately to the side of a larger group across from them on the terrace. “What do you notice about those two?”

“They appear to be friends.”

“Look closer.”

The Lady giggled, touched her throat; the Baroness reached out and touched their fingers together in a tender stroke for a brief moment, then went back to gesticulating with her hands as she spoke.

“Lovers?”

“Yes. Now you know something, and you use it to your advantage to get what you want. If you wanted bigger lands, you might, say, use the fact that the Baroness’ husband has some parcels to distribute and ask her to influence his hand your way or you’ll tell of her indiscretion. Or, you can tell the husband, and he’ll give you the land to have you keep quiet, or in thanks if you take care of his cheating wife or wife’s lover for him. And then you two will have some knowledge on each other, and create a mutual relationship that should pull you up the ranks.”

“So it’s just … court games.” Blaine frowned. “Doesn’t every court do this to some extent?”

“But no one moreso than Orlais. There’s no choice here -- you do it, or you die. The Empress likes it -- encourages distrust so nobody will ever work together to overthrow her.”

//end


	2. i'm here to vipe your vindows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORKING TITLE: something halloweeny for seblaine  
> SUMMARY: I wanted to write vampires and it became this instead. I do still want to write a vampire AU someday ...

“There’s no such thing as being scared anymore ….”

\--

Sebastian kissed down Blaine’s neck, felt his pulse on his tongue, dragged his teeth there.

“I could kill you …”

“That’s what I’m waiting for.”

Sebastian pulled Blaine closer, the nighttime air cold and gripping around them, the only warmth in the friction between them.

“Ask and ye shall receive …”

Silence, and then Blaine started laughing. Sebastian soon followed, burying his face into the junction of Blaine’s neck. Blaine whacked him as the director, Tina, called “Bring it back!” Sebastian pulled away, trying to regain a look of vampiric seduction, but Blaine’s furiously bouncing eyebrows as he struggled to tone down his laughter only set him off again. “Guys? Really?!”

“Sorry, Tina.” Blaine bit his lip, swallowing a giggle. “But  _ ask and ye shall receive _ is just a bit …”

“Corny.” Sebastian tongued one of his fake fangs. Speaking around them was already a feat, nevermind when the lines were like  _ that _ . “There’s nothing sexy about it.”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot we were filming high art and not a gay movie parody …” Tina rolled her eyes. “C’mon, we’re still rolling, bring it back … take it from the corny line, okay …”

“Alright …” Sebastian returned to Blaine’s neck, smiling wickedly and resuming his kisses. Blaine settled down finally, breathing sharply as Sebastian took liberty in nipping at his neck. “Ask and ye shall receive, my love …”

Blaine started laughing again. Tina groaned, and called, “Cut!”

\--

//end


	3. move me in reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORKING TITLE: its in the details, dahling  
> SUMMARY: seblaine reunite ~5 years down the line and sebastian is tender without blaine is confused.

Blaine and Sebastian bump into each other during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Blaine pushed by an overeager woman and Sebastian tangled up in the errant balloons of a grinning clown.

“Sebastian!”

“Blaine.”

Sebastian considered him, the way Sebastian always considered him, a dictionary needed to parse the meaning of those looks. The effect wasn’t ruined by Sebastian fighting off the snaking hold of a bright green ribbon around his forehead, though Blaine found himself smiling even wider.

“I didn’t know you were in the city.”

“I’m passing through.”

“Vacation?”

“An escape.” Sebastian grinned toothily. “Want to make it a sweeter one and go get drinks? I’m getting tired of holiday commercialism.” 

“Sure.” Blaine laughed. The parade was old hat for him now, so many years into the city. The idea of a beer and Sebastian, who he hadn’t seen since senior year, was infinitely more intriguing. “I forgot you loved Gwen Stefani.”

“I wouldn’t say love --”

“You owned an actual, physical CD of hers!”

“Owned. Past tense.” Sebastian wrapped a hand around Blaine’s arm, tugging him through the crowd in a path he seemed to make with minimal landed elbows, the way Blaine could remember from at least one sports game they’d attended years and miles away. Certainly all the changes they’d seen since those days weren’t just physical, like how he could have sworn that Sebastian was even taller than he remembered. (Or maybe he only remembered wrong.) “I’ve put away those childish things.”

“So if I start singing Hollaback Girl right now, you won’t sing along?”

“I’m wounded.” Sebastian flashed him a smile over his shoulder. “You don’t trust me?”

“I just don’t think it’s possible to  _ stop _ liking that song.”

“Well I’ve news for you, Anderson. I only like mature music now.”

Blaine picked up his pace, so Sebastian didn’t lose hold of him as they wound their way to a side street that fed off from 7th. The crowds were thinning, and Sebastian’s stride widened. 

“Such as?”

“Oh, you know. Classical music. Opera. Jazz. Soulful proto-indie rock.”

Sebastian was undoubtedly fucking with him, and judging by his grin that could only be called ‘shit eating’ he knew it. Blaine decided not to let him off the hook.

“Really.” Blaine raised his eyebrows. “So if I grabbed your phone right now, I wouldn’t find Taylor Swift on it?”

“Of course not.”

“So hand me your phone.” Blaine’s eyebrows turned challenging. They were walking even now, though Blaine trusted Sebastian to lead him wherever they were going. Sebastian shook his head immediately. “What’s the problem?”

“Can’t have you steal all the important company secrets I have on there.”

“So I’m a corporate spy now.” Blaine overshot Sebastian by a few steps as Sebastian suddenly turned down another street, and rushed to catch up with. He put on his best Brit accent. “Like Anderson, Blaine Anderson?”

“Mmm. They should cast you as the next Bond.” Sebastian’s gaze took on a faraway twinkle. “And you can do an homage to that Daniel Craig coming out of the ocean in his speedo moment …”

“You haven’t changed.”

“The best things never do.” Like a New Yorker Sebastian didn’t stop to wait at the crosswalk, instead walking across without care. Blaine shook his head in amusement, and realized where they must be headed -- the soaring heights of the Intercontinental. 

“You’re staying at the hotel?”

“Don’t give me that look. I’m not taking you back to there to ravage you. It was the closest bar I could think of.”

“I wasn’t accusing you.” Blaine nudged Sebastian. “Relax.”

“This coming from you …” Sebastian stepped aside, laughing harder when Blaine gave him a mock-threatening look. “Here.” Sebastian held the door open for him, and they entered the hotel. They navigated through reception to the low lit bar, twinkling lights and polished wooden tables and the soft chatter of men in business suits lending a subdued, professional look. They sat at the bar by mutual agreement, and Blaine slipped out of his jacket gratefully. Sometimes you forgot the bitter cold, but it was always a relief to be out of it. Sebastian shrugged his off gracefully, and then flagged down the bartender.

“Two seven and eights.”

The bartender nodded, and as Blaine sat down, scooting his stool a bit closer -- the bar was a bit crowded -- he asked, “So what are you doing now? I haven’t seen you since --”

“You got engaged.” Sebastian leaned back, hands folded across his stomach. Blaine hesitated. He wasn’t going to put it like that. He slipped his left hand down, out of sight. “So it’s been what, five years?”

“Seven.” Blaine frowned deeper. Sebastian didn’t remember. Their drinks came, and he hid his expression with a careful sip, then, “I was surprised that you didn’t turn up at the Dalton memorial. We sent invitations to everyone.”

Sebastian had RSVP’d with a “maybe” but the day of, with alumni and current students gathered around the charred ruins, candles in handle and memories shared he was absent. Blaine knew this because he’d searched for him, through the crowd, through the Warblers old and new doing a pompous, too-literal, yet deeply moving and sincere performance of  _ Things We Lost In The Fire _ . Afterwards in the applause, Sebastian had been nowhere to be seen, and Blaine had tugged on his blazer and talked to old friends and schmoozed with rich movers and shakers who had all been graduates or related to ones, pulling in donations by the thousands. Dalton had been rebuilt within two years, even grander than before, and he wondered if Sebastian even knew that.

“I was planning on it, but I had a family emergency.” Sebastian shrugged.

“Oh.” Blaine reached over, touching Sebastian’s arm. It seemed a far more deliberate act then letting Sebastian touch him, and realized too late he was using his ring hand. “I’m so sorry. I hope it wasn’t anything too serious.”

“I …” Sebastian looked to him, then to his drink, swirling it around before sighing. “Okay, I’m lying. There was an emergency but it was just ‘we have more money than we know what to do with’ -- nobody died or anything. But I didn’t really want to go to the memorial, so I used it as an excuse.”

“Why?”

“I liked Dalton.” Sebastian took a sip, then elaborated at Blaine’s understanding nod, “I was a stupid little shit making my life harder than it had to be, back then. It took a hell of a lot to get me to smarten up, but it wasn’t hard as it could have been, having Dalton there.”

“I get it.” Truth was, Dalton might have been rebuilt, but the loss of it still haunted him. It was odd, so many years later, to talk to someone who felt the same way. “You didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“Exactly.” Sebastian nudged his knee. Blaine realized his hand was still cupping the faint flex of Sebastian’s long arm. He dropped it. “I’m surprised you managed to. You were attached to that place.”

“I was.”

“Like, unhealthily so. We nearly got you to transfer with a Kelly Clarkson song …”

“Not nearly!”

“You got transfer papers from the office!” Sebastian added, off Blaine’s look, “Ruth liked me.”

“Okay, nearly. But then I realized that McKinley --”

“Was where your heart was?”

Blaine blinked

“... Yeah. It was. Even without Kurt, it was where I belonged.”

“I still think you were a Dalton boy at heart.’

“Probably.” Blaine shrugged, taking a sip to formulate thoughts. “I guess I’ve never understood why I couldn’t be both.”

“If anyone could, it would be you, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine smiled at that, and Sebastian smiled back, and the moment lasted at least four beats longer than it should. Blaine cleared his throat, and Sebastian took the hint.

“So how did you manage to say goodbye to one half of your heart?”

“I grew up.” Blaine twisted his glass, watching the dark wood of the bar dampen in a smeared circle, dragging through it to ruin the design. “And that means leaving things behind.”

“God.” Sebastian laughed. “I leave you alone for five years and you turn miserable.”

“Seven. And I’m not!”

“‘Growing up means losing things?’ Where’d you get that? A Joss Whedon teen drama? Cheer up, buddy.”

“Do you think I’m wrong?”

“Okay, like, maybe you grow up and your parents die and your favourite movies turn cheesy in retrospect and the people you thought you’d love forever become someone you could pass by on the street without a word. That’s not losing things. That’s moving on.”

“There’s a difference?”

“You can’t  _ lose _ something that was a part of you, that was important to you. It might not be there anymore, but it’s always going to be in your past. So you just move forward, and you carry that with you, to influence who you’ll become in the future.”

“The past always haunts us, is that what you’re saying?”

“If you want to be emo about it, I guess.” Sebastian tapped his drink to Blaine’s. “Drink. The more you drink, the more sense it makes.”

“I don’t like that thought, though. I don’t want to be haunted.”

“Then who ya gonna call? The ghostbusters.” 

“Sebastian!” Blaine laughed, ducking his chin. “I forgot, you’re incapable of a serious conversation for more than a minute.”

“Excuse you, that was one minute and forty-five seconds by my count.”

“My mistake.”

They drank then, a silence that was definitely somewhere in  _ uncomfortable _ befalling them. Blaine didn’t know why -- their conversation had been perfectly normal, with minimal flirting or anything else that would make him hyperaware of the band of silver around him. Which was maybe why, after they ordered their next round, he asked,

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“My, my, why the curiosity, kitty?”

Blaine cleared his throat. Sebastian always said the oddest things, that hadn’t changed. “Just. You never had trouble finding someone before.”

“I wasn’t exactly the dating type.”

“Okay, fine, tell me about your latest hookup then. Crushes. Whatever. Let me live vicariously through you.” That sounded bad. “I’m joking. I just want to know what you’ve been up to.”

“Mm-hmm.” Sebastian didn’t seem to believe him, but after a second of giving Blaine a look that was so scrutinizing that it made him feel like he’d forgotten to button his shirt properly, Sebastian offered, “There’s somebody.”

“Really?” Blaine sat up. “Tell me all about it.”

“Perv.”

“No, come on …” Blaine forgot how closed off Sebastian could be with his personal life. He hadn’t failed to notice that Sebastian hadn’t actually told him what he was doing these days. “I just want to know you aren’t making him up. Tell me something small about him.”

“Alright.” Sebastian pensively looked into his drink. “Though I want the record to reflect that I’m offended you think I’d make up a fake boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Guess I’m just good at reading you.” Sebastian tipped him a wink, and Blaine relaxed. “A little thing?”

“Like … his smile. What’s his smile like?”

That always was the first thing Blaine looked for. Kurt’s smile that day had been like a sunrise.

“Gorgeous.” Sebastian got a fond one of his own as he said it, gazing into the middle distance. “I can’t really describe it, but it makes me smile too, and what else do you want?”

“Be with someone who makes you happy.”

“Ugh, let’s not get too sappy …” Sebastian pulled a mock frown, then laughed. “He’s got a cute pout too. Kind of muppetish, honestly, but he works it.”

“Muppetish?”

“Muppets are cute. People love muppets.”

“I’m not sure your mystery guy would agree.”

“I would never date a muppet hater.” Sebastian held up his hand like he was making a solemn vow. “This I swear on Jim Henson’s grave.”

“Okay, fine, muppets are cute and he likes muppets, got it. What else?”

“He’s got sexy fingers.” Sebastian examined his own, twiddling them for Blaine’s observation. One of them looked slightly bent, like he’d broken it since they met last and it hadn’t healed perfectly straight. “The kind that are perfect for fingering.”

“Sebastian --”

“What? You wanted  _ details _ .” Sebastian practically purred it out. Blaine’s collar felt tight. “But if you want me to keep it PG, fine. He’s got really nice, strong shoulders, too.”

“Anything that’s  _ not _ about his physical appearance?”

“Christ, I’m not allowed to be attracted to the guy I like? How’s that sexless marriage suiting you, Anderson-Hummel?” Blaine fell quiet, injured, and Sebastian seemed to realize that had been a low blow because he held up his hands in apology. “Sorry. Guess I’m still an asshole. I’m sure the two of you have lots of amazing, happily married hubbies sex.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it actually okay, or are you just saying that?”

Blaine stared, and repeated more firmly, “It’s okay.”

“Good. I tell you, I’m just frustrated. Sexually. He and I haven’t …”

“No way.”

“I’m a man of many facets,” Sebastian tapped his glass to the counter, took a sip. “And apparently one of them is failing to score. Just one though. A tiny, miniscule fraction of my being.”

“I’m sure if you give it time,” Blaine said gently, trying to hide his remaining disbelief. “And show you care …”

“Uh-huh.” Sebastian patted him on the shoulder. “Now there’s the optimism I missed.”

“I told you, I’m not miserable. I’m very happy.”

“That sounds like something a happy person would say, sure.” Sebastian downed his drink -- Blaine was still only halfway through his own -- and flagged the bartender for another. “So what’s been up with you? Where’s the Blaine Anderson album we’ve all been waiting for?”

“I’m on the stage right now,” Blaine said. “With Kurt. We do a show at the Lincoln Center. And we do an It Gets Better type campaign to encourage arts in the schools on the side.”

“That sounds nice. Seriously, Blaine. I always knew you’d make a difference.”

“Thanks. We really like it. And …” Blaine took a deep breath. Released it. The words didn’t feel real, still. “We’re expecting a baby. Rachel’s our surrogate.”

“Wow.” Sebastian looked at him, really looked at him, eyes wide. “I saw her at the Tonys, she looked ready to pop. Is it yours, or what? Did you both spunk in a cup and mix it up?”

“Ew.” Blaine wrinkled his nose. “Not like that, but yes, we’re trying to keep it a mystery.”

“Here’s hoping it doesn’t look like you.” Off Blaine’s offended look, Sebastian elaborated, “We can’t have too many heartbreakers running around the world. Think of the calamity.”

“Oh.” Blaine shook his head, smiling, and Sebastian retreated to his drink with a slight smile of his own. “It’s a girl,” Blaine offered. 

“Cute. Got a name picked out?”

“Not yet.”

//end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll let the planning notes speak for where this would have gone:
> 
> "and blaines encouraging him like 'you two sound perfect together' and trying not to notice that hes starting to feel jealous  
> and then one day someone looks at blaines phone maybe kurt or rachel or someone and they point out the obvious  
> 'why is sebastian smythe talking about your eyes?'  
> and blaines like 'no hes talking about the guy he likes --'  
> but then it hits him and he looks through everything theyve talked about and hes like turning to kurt 'do i scrunch my nose up sometimes??' and kurt is like ??? i guess yeah ....???  
> and hE FINALLY REALIZES THAT ALL THESE LITTLE INTIMATE LOVING DETAILS THAT SEB HAS BEEN DESCRIBING ABT THIS GUY HE LOVES  
> ARE ABOUT HIM  
> AND SEB HAS SPENT THE LAST FEW MONTHS TELLING HIM SUBTLY THAT HES IN LOVE WITH HIM  
> and he freaks out bc well and stops talking to seb while he sorts out his life and all the increasing kurt drama there but eventually when all the dramas passed he texts seb like 'theres this thing i like about this guy -- he always notices the littlest things about me....'  
> cue seblaine endgame yadda yadda kisses and make ups"
> 
> ... but in reflection i also like the idea of sebastian speaking his truth in his way, and then moving on. hm.


	4. you can be my full-time baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORKING TITLE: fem seblaine  
> SUMMARY: exactly what it says on the tin. pretty disjointed. not going to admit to how much of this is, uh, 'inspired' by my life. heh.  
> NOTES: i can never decide if i prefer 'sabrina' or 'simone' for fem!seb's name. also, the song is lana del rey's "ride."

“McKinley is where my heart is.”

Blair tucked her hair behind her ear. Looked aside. Smiles. Simone’s heart  _ tha-thumped _ .

“That’s so sweet,” Simone cooed. “Boyfriend? What’s he like. Tell me  _ everything _ .”

That was a test. Blair did not fail it.

“Girlfriend, actually.” Blair smiled. “Liz. She used to be a Cardinal.”

Elizabeth Hummel. The Crawford County Day Cardinals, all-girl a capella group and Simone’s current domain, had told Simone  _ all _ about the brief transfer from last year. A butchy little dyke who had raced off with the heart of her kindly best friend and beloved lead singer, Blair Anderson. Not exactly Little Miss Popular around the school, to be certain.

“Huh …” Simone blinked innocently. “Why did she leave?”

“Liz missed her old school. It’s where all her friends are.”

“Sounds like she’s popular.”

Blair blinked. “Nobody in the Glee club is really  _ popular _ , but they are her friends and they stand together against the school.”

“ _Her_ friends …” Simone tutted.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Simone smiled. “So you went to McKinley to be with your girlfriend? That’s adorable.”

And insanely stupid. Crawford was easily one of the most prestigious institutes in the Midwest. Why would you give up the fast track to an Ivy League education just to follow some girl? What next? Renting a U-Haul?

“Yes,” Blair said, softly. Not entirely happily, if you asked Simone. “I love her.”

Simone resisted an eye-roll, taking a sip of her coffee. She couldn’t listen to much more of this.

“Cute.” Simone set down her coffee. “Look, I have to run. Lacrosse practise --”

“You play lacrosse? 

“Hmm.” Simone smirked. “I like to stay in shape.”

She stood up, and gaze pinned to Blair she came around the table, trailing her fingers along the table top. Blair looked between them and Simone, eyes wide, which widened further when Simone then reached down to hike her skirt a little higher. Those pretty honey eyes jumped right down to the bare thigh on display. 

“Check out that muscle tone,” Simone said.

“Oh …” Blair nodded slowly, cheeks going red. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” Simone dropped her skirt. “I’ll send you a Facebook invite later, okay?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Blair promised, and Simone actually believed her. “Have a nice time at practise!”

Simone smiled, nodded, and left, smug that stage on of diving between those thighs was officially set.

&&&

They shared a sticky bottle of cherry cola in between them in the front seat of the car.

“Who was she?”

Simone glanced over. “Who?”

“The girl who made you like girls.”

“Oh.” Simone’s nose wrinkled. “ _ Bianca _ .”

“Not friends anymore?”

“God no.” Simone shrugged. “I mean, she’s fine or whatever. I haven’t talked to her in years though, and we were never best friends.”

Blair frowned. “So why her?”

“She was really hot. In a sixth grade kind of way.”

“You realized you were gay in sixth grade and it  _ wasn’t _ from falling for your best friend?”

“Like I’d ever be so cliché,” Simone said with an air of great malaise at the idea. “No, she was a friend, but whatever. It really started with Joey Conway.”

“Who was he?”

“Cutest boy in the sixth grade.” Simone took a sip before she continued. “He invited me and Bianca over one day to work on a project about some arctic explorer. Well, he had other plans, because even little boys are disgusting.”

Blair nodded her agreement, and not for the first time, Simone wondered how this girl could pretend to be bisexual.

“He wanted to try this  _ cool new thing _ he saw online. So we had Bianca stand watch for his mom, we climbed under his Star Wars covers, and he fingerbanged me.”

“Oh wow.” Blair’s eyes widened. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Simone shuddered. “It hurt. I kind of hated it, but I was determined to see it through. I think I have vaginismus.”

“What’s that?”

“Total freeze-up to penetration,” Simone explained. “See, ovarian cancer runs in the family. After my aunt got it, my mom made me go get a pap smear. The doctor had to go for the smallest speculum he had and it still hurt. He told me that was probably it, and he could like, maybe find some way to help me, and I was like, Doc, I’m a rugmuncher and I never want anything inside me anyways so who cares.”

“So I guess you lucked out, orientation-wise,” Blair said hesitantly.

“Definitely.” Simone grinned. “So, Bianca. She was all kinds of jealous that I got some from Joey. She wouldn’t shut up about it, actually. So next time we had a sleepover I showed her how it was done. And I was watching her and I was getting all funny feeling and hot all over and I was like, oh my god. I’m gay. And I never looked back.”

“Wow,” Blair said, “that’s one way of figuring it out.”

“Yeah.”

They shared a few more sips of the cola, then Simone asked, since she figured Blair wanted to share her story hence the question in the first place, “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What made you like girls? Who was she?”

“My best friend.”

Simone groaned. “Cli-ché.”

“We did everything together,” Blair persisted. “I really liked her. We kissed at a dance and -- well, anyways.”

“Dated?”

“No, she moved.”

Blair frowned, slipping the straw into her mouth for another sip. Simone watched her lips pout for a moment before clearing her throat.

“That sucks … but you knew?”

“I knew. I actually came to Crawford and there was the GSA and I was like, hang on! I’m bisexual. I can join! It helped me come out.”

“That’s what they’re there for.”

Blair nodded, and drank some more. Simone reached for the bottle, and skimmed her fingers along Blair’s. Heat flared in a shocking contrast to the cold condensation of the bottle and Simone’s belly, breasts, cheeks, warmed in companion suit. She let go, and watched a similar flush paint Blair’s cheeks.

She wanted to kiss Blair, but Blair had a girlfriend. So Simone played nice and looked out the window instead, singing along to Lana on the radio.

_Don't break me down (Don't break me down)_  
_I've been travelling too long (I've been travelling too long)_  
_I've been trying too hard (I've been trying too hard)_  
_With one pretty song (With one pretty song)_

&&&

The message came in at three a.m.

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Hi, how have you been? :) _

Simone rolled over in bed, stared at her phone. The last message she’d gotten from Blair Anderson before this had arrived -- Simone checked -- seven months ago. Plans to go to the mall together that had never coalesced, not that Simone could blame Blair for cutting her off. So why this weirdly friendly message out of the blue when most people were asleep?

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ Fine. Getting back into the school rhythm...I made the mistake of taking Latin this term so I’m agonizing over an essay for it right now. _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ How about you? Doing good? _

_ Blair Anderson _

_ I could help! I took Latin, I got As so I think I’d be a good editor. You could send me your essay when you’re done? :) _

Simone waited, but Blair didn’t answer how she was. Huh.

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ That would be great, but I have the class first period in about five hours and I probably won’t be done for another hour. _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ So don’t worry about it. _

Simone tugged her laptop over, staring sleepily at the words on the screen. Who assigned a two thousand word essay on the evolution of the Latin language in the first month of classes? Only a professor at Crawford would, that was for sure.

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Send it whenever you’re finished, I’m pulling an all-nighter myself. _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ Why? Teaching Latin at McKinley now? Lol _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ No, just some school president prep. Making posters, that kind of stuff. I had a lot of homework so it didn’t get done until now. _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ You’re class president? Go girl. _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ It’s senior year. Gotta make those college applications look good. :) _

Blair was one of those girls who used a lot of emojis, which Simone normally found stupid, but anyone who talked to Blair in real life knew she was really just that energetic and cutesy.

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ You have nothing to worry about, you’ll kill it. _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Thanks ♥ _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ I’ve missed you _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ I’m sorry _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Ignore me _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ Okay you need to calm down. I missed you too. Want to get coffee tomorrow? _

_ Simone Smythe _

__ _ And don’t apologize. Seriously. _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Okay _

_ Blair Anderson _

__ _ Coffee tomorrow sounds good :) _

/end


End file.
